by Bex Hogan
But Torin doesn’t understand the extent of my father’s cunning. ‘Why would he do this?’
‘To flush us out. To discover where we’ve been hiding.’
The blood drains from his face. ‘We have to get back to the castle.’
He barks orders at his men, for some to come with us, for some to stay and continue the fight, and then we’re running again. My heart pounds against my ribs, desperate to escape its torment. Because I know what we’re going to find. I know we’re going to be too late.
It’s deathly quiet as we reach the castle, but the main door is open, an ominous welcome home. It’s only when Sharpe appears from the darkness that I’m certain something terrible has happened. I can tell he’s injured from the way he stumbles out, and Torin sprints towards him.
I hear Torin’s cry of anguish before I can see the cause. Sharpe’s pointing towards the great cave as he drops to his knees, his head flailing about. He turns, and dark hollows glisten from where his eyes have been gouged out, blood dripping down his face.
Momentarily I’m too stunned to move, simply watching as Torin clutches Sharpe tightly, but as nausea rises I force myself forward towards the cave. Whatever my father has done it is meant for me. I have to know.
I’m greeted by a macabre tableau. Six of the standing stones have a body tied to them. Torin’s advisors. All have had their throats slit. Enoch’s has been sliced so violently his head lolls at a strange angle, practically severed, so that the gaping hole reminds me of a ludicrous grin.
Two of the other six standing stones bear a message as well – the fourth and the sixth both have a cross marked on them, scrawled in blood.
The meaning is immediately clear. Two islands down, four to go. My father is just getting started.
Grace is beside me now, taking in the awful scene. ‘Cut them down,’ I say, my voice breaking.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To help Sharpe.’
There’s nothing I can do for the council, but Sharpe must be in agony and while I can’t restore his sight, I can relieve his pain.
Torin is guiding Sharpe into the great cave and I run to wrap my arms round them. ‘Let’s get him to the healing room,’ I say softly to Torin, whose eyes brim with tears. He nods and together we manoeuvre Sharpe along the passageways. About halfway there he loses consciousness. I’m prepared to drag him the rest of the way if needs be, but Torin stops and scoops Sharpe into his arms, not putting him down until we reach the table in the healing room.
I grab jars, searching until I find handfuls of barkweed and coralpine and mash them into a paste. Drawing on something I’ve read in the old manuscripts, I add a dash of wildroot and a pinch of dirt. If what I’ve read is true, this will quicken the healing process. As soon as the consistency is right, I smear the concoction on to Sharpe’s empty sockets, trying not to flinch when my fingers touch soft jelly where eyeballs should be. When I’m done, I wrap a strip of muslin round his head to keep the wounds clean, before finding a bottle of tonic that will help soothe Sharpe’s mind while he sleeps, and tip it gently into his mouth.
Throughout all this Torin doesn’t move from Sharpe’s side. He holds his hand, their fingers entwined. I see now where his heart lies.
Once there’s nothing more I can do for Sharpe I sit down opposite Torin.
‘This is my fault,’ he says.
‘No.’ I bite back my tears. ‘This is all my father’s doing.’
‘I should have let him come with us; he wanted to stay with me.’ Torin raises his eyes to meet mine, and he looks utterly broken. ‘I was trying to keep him safe.’
‘Of course you were. You love him.’
Torin nods, acknowledging my understanding, and now his tears flow freely.
I force back the tidal wave of emotion that threatens to undo me. I can’t afford to lose my focus now. My time to grieve must wait; anything else would be beyond selfish.
Torin and I sit for the longest time with Sharpe. Grace comes in briefly to tell us how many of the King’s Guard have been murdered by my father, but also assures us that the fighting has ceased in the settlement, with the surviving soldiers staying to protect it once more against any further attack.
I don’t think my father will be back, though. He would have waited for us to return if he meant to kill me today. No, this was just to teach me a lesson. A reminder that there’s nowhere to hide – the councillors’ kill orders now complete. He’s had his fun here. He’ll be moving on to bigger and better things. Which means that time has run out for me.
While I sit with Sharpe through the night, reapplying the salve every few hours and changing the dressing, drugging him so he stays in a deep sleep away from the horrors of consciousness, I formulate my plan. It’s a terrible one, full of holes, and highly unlikely to succeed. But it’s the only one I have.
And when the sun rises red in the sky, as if it knows the blood that has been shed and the blood still to be spilled, I wake Torin and tell him what I’m going to do.
The Sixth Isle never ceases to amaze me with its hostility. Just when you think a place can’t be any more unpleasant it reveals another sinister corner.
The cove in which Bronn is working on his ship is so well concealed I would never have found it without a guide. The mouth to the vast cavern has both stalactites and stalagmites jutting like teeth, warning sailors away from entering. The King’s Guardsman who accompanies me rows with great caution through the opening, beads of sweat on his brow as he risks his life to deliver me. When I try to ease his fears by mentioning that far bigger ships have safely navigated this passage he tells me more have failed than succeeded. And that these shallows are full of stingerfish, whose venom can paralyse a man with just one prick of the skin. Which shuts me up.
It was hard leaving Torin and Sharpe behind. While I’d explained my intentions to Torin I’d prepared tonics and lotions for Sharpe’s recovery, not wanting him to be in any unnecessary pain. There’s enough pain already that can’t be avoided – for all of us.
Torin had objected to my plan at first. Accused me of being reckless.
‘Doing nothing would be reckless. This gives us a chance,’ I’d argued.
But then he’d looked at me, his face etched with sorrow, and I’d realised it wasn’t my idea he objected to. It was the prospect of suffering more loss.
I’d taken his hand in mine. ‘You once spoke to me of our duty. It never stops following us, and this is mine. I am the Viper’s heir. But I am not my father. I will be the Viper the Isles deserve; I will protect them. Whatever it takes.’
His eyes had met mine, and, oh, how I’d wanted to wipe the grief from them. But they were fierce with determination. ‘As must I. I couldn’t protect the council, couldn’t keep Sharpe from harm, but I won’t let others suffer as they have. I will do my part, as you ask.’
I’d wrapped my arms round him and held him tight. ‘Thank you,’ I’d said, and I hadn’t just meant for agreeing, but for everything. For existing.
We’d stayed in our embrace for a long time, afraid of what letting go meant, but in the end our destinies had to be confronted.
The last thing Torin had said to me before I left was, ‘It will be my honour to fight with you, my friend.’
The warmth of lanterns glows up ahead, bringing me back to the present. Despite everything, a glimmer of something approaching happiness flickers inside me at the prospect of seeing Bronn. I’ve missed him more than I’d known possible.
The ship looms up ahead, and I look it over, wondering if it will be up to the task.
My guard calls out to the crew as we pull alongside it, and a rope is thrown down for me to climb aboard. As I shimmy up I catch sight of the ship’s name. Avenger. I hope she can live up to it, because that’s exactly what I plan to do. Avenge the Eastern Isles. Avenge Joren, Clara and Tomas. Sharpe. Enoch, Lora and the other advisors. All those who perished on the Fourth. And the Sixth. The list is too long.
Bronn is waiting
for me on deck, but greets me with cool formality, his eyes resting briefly on the crystal pendant round my neck. I try not to let it show how much his indifference hurts me as he introduces me to his crew. I fear I’ve lost him already. But then he invites me to his quarters to discuss matters, and once we’re alone, with the door firmly shut, he pulls me to him and I realise he was simply behaving appropriately towards the Prince’s fiancée in front of the others.
I want to melt into him, want him to take my pain away, but he can’t – no more than Torin’s love for Sharpe can fix him. What my father has done, the atrocities I’ve witnessed, they are my burden. And they give me purpose.
So I pull slightly away from Bronn, moving to sit on a chair. Bronn watches me closely, and perhaps he sees the steely resolve in my eyes because he says nothing about my pushing him away and instead offers me some rum.
The liquid burns my throat, but I ask for another one. Only after I’ve consumed both do I tell him everything that’s happened. His face barely reacts to what I say, but I can see his fists clenching tighter.
‘So what are we doing?’ he asks when the tale is told. Warmth rushes through me at the word ‘we’; I’m so relieved he isn’t running this time.
‘Is this ship seaworthy?’
I see the glint in his eyes. ‘Just about. Depends what you had in mind. She’s no match for the Maiden yet.’
‘I don’t need her to be. Can she outrun her?’
He considers this. ‘With a good wind? Maybe. For a while.’
‘A while is all we need.’
Bronn finally understands what I’m saying. ‘You don’t intend to beat him.’
I smile sadly. ‘Just outlast him long enough to pull him into a trap of our own.’
My plan is simple. I’m still the best bait we have, so we’ll take the Avenger out to sea, several nautical miles away from the ocean’s divide between East and West. My father will think I’m running, fleeing to save my own skin, and will find me, drawn like moth to flame. Then all we need to do is survive long enough to retreat across the border into Western waters. The Maiden’s crew will be against following us, will object violently to my father’s demand, utterly ruled by their superstitious fears of the Western Sea, but my father will insist that they pursue us.
Once they do, they will no longer have an advantage. The waters are as unknown to them as the rest of us, and it is here that we can put up a fight. We’ll lose. But we’ll weaken them, and in sacrificing our ship we’ll occupy him long enough so that he doesn’t see the King’s Fleet approaching from behind, led by Torin on his own quest for vengeance. And there’s no way my father will get past the entire Fleet in strange waters.
I know I won’t survive and I’m at peace with that certainty. My only responsibility now is to stop the Viper and his reign of terror. I will gladly give my life to fulfil that obligation. To keep my promise to Clara.
When I’ve told Bronn everything he takes my hand gently in his. He knows exactly what I’m saying.
‘Make sure the crew know the risks – this is a voluntary mission. I won’t ask anyone to come who doesn’t want to.’ I force myself to look directly into his eyes. ‘That includes you.’
Now he smiles, a gesture filled with affection. ‘Where else would I be?’
It’s so selfish, but I’m grateful. Though the last thing I want is for Bronn to be hurt, in all honesty I don’t want to face this alone.
‘Besides,’ Bronn says, ‘if you want this ship to last as long as possible against the Maiden, you’d better have the best sailor in the land at the helm.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Grace has already agreed to come. She’ll be here soon.’ I manage to keep a straight face for a few seconds before I break into a smile.
He feigns mock offence, before reaching out and pulling me to him. And for a moment we stay like that, steeling ourselves for all that lies ahead. Then, resting his chin on my head, Bronn sighs. ‘We should go,’ he says. ‘We’ll be setting sail soon.’
And there’s plenty to do before then as I discover when I leave the sanctuary of his cabin. Sails and rigging all need to be checked, oakum has to be placed between the seams of planks to keep them watertight, and I spend most of my time using pitch to patch up some forgotten holes. The Avenger is hardly in the best shape.
Almost all of the crew elect to stay aboard and I’m humbled by their bravery. These are men and women from the King’s Fleet that my father has terrorised for months. They trusted him, considered him an ally, and he attacked them without provocation. The mere fact they’re prepared to fight with Bronn and me speaks volumes about their courage and belief in their duty. I’m proud to make this final stand alongside them.
Bronn introduces me to Ana, the boatswain, a woman whose skin has suffered from years of salt water and wind, but whose eyes dance with excitement. She welcomes me with the warmth of a long-lost relative and though I’d hoped not to form any attachments with the crew I instantly like her.
The same is true of the quartermaster, Rynce, a man who always has a smile at the ready, and of Harley, the experienced sailing master, who doesn’t mince her words – when it comes to our predicament or anything else.
‘Your father’s a sea-devil,’ she says, even as she shakes my hand. ‘Hope you’re forged from strong steel.’
‘I guess we’ll find out,’ I say with a half-smile.
‘Want me to navigate us through uncharted waters, do you?’ She bores into me with her sharp eyes. ‘Through oceans even the Snakes fear? With creatures so deadly they’ll tear the strongest ship to shreds in seconds?’
I shrug with casual indifference. ‘If you think you can.’
Harley’s laugh has a deep booming quality. ‘I like you. Slightly mad. All the best sailors are.’
By the time Grace joins us we’re about ready to weigh anchor, and tension is beginning to rise at the prospect of negotiating the treacherous passage out of the cave. The masts practically reach its roof and, to be honest, I’m amazed they got the ship inside in the first place.
While the last preparations are being made I take the opportunity to speak quietly with Grace.
‘How are they?’
Her face softens at my concern. ‘Sharpe is doing as well as can be expected. Your tonics are seeing to that. And I’ve never seen Torin more focused. He has plenty of friends in the Fleet and will round up as many as he can before he’s on our tail. He wants to end this as much as we do.’
Torin intends to take Sharpe on his ship with him, unwilling to leave him behind again. I can understand that. I glance over at Bronn. None of us wants to die alone. And all of us know how this is likely to end.
When the anchor is raised barely a sound can be heard. All attention is focused on assigned duties to get us safely out on to the ocean. We don’t want this mission to end before it’s even begun.
Harley is at the helm; her knowledge of these passages is unrivalled, and witnessing the way she sails the Avenger, as if bending her to her will, makes me wonder what she could do with a ship like the Maiden. I can tell Bronn is impressed too – he’s never been one to miss the opportunity to learn from those more accomplished than him, even if those opportunities are few and far between.
The ship seems to breathe in, squeezing through the gaps in the massive dripstone with defiance. Only once we’re clear do the crew relax slightly, glad to be out in the open again, with fresh air to renew our lungs.
Harley sets the Avenger on a westerly course as Ana barks the order to drop sails. They work with efficiency, and I wonder why my father has always held the members of the King’s Fleet in such contempt. Everything I’ve seen so far indicates exceptional skill and talent.
Rynce issues a strict duty schedule, allowing everyone sufficient rest while we’re not yet in battle. He makes it clear to me that until my father shows up, he and Bronn are in charge of the ship. Once the Viper appears I’m to take over. And so I’m assigned a lot of rest time now because soon enough I’l
l get none.
My cabin is small, but I’m grateful for it. Most of the crew have hammocks strung up on the gun deck, but Rynce insisted that my authority be marked by having my own quarters.
I ask Bronn about the crew one night, while we’re sitting together on my floor, nibbling sea biscuits that are already so hard I can’t imagine how our teeth will manage them in a few more days. ‘Why doesn’t my father have any respect for the King’s Fleet? If you ask me, they’re more impressive than half his Snakes.’
‘Well, this lot aren’t officially in the King’s Fleet,’ he says.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Apparently Torin has a habit of picking up waifs and strays. Most of this crew are sailors who failed to meet the King’s irrational standards, or those who were discharged for minor infringements. Some are reformed bandits, who wanted to atone for their sins. In fact, most of this lot wouldn’t be out of place on the Maiden.’
I find this revelation oddly comforting. Like we’re surrounded by our own kind.
When we’ve finished our unpleasant dinner Bronn stands up to leave. ‘Suppose I should get some sleep.’
I’m exhausted too, but I don’t want to be alone, don’t want the light he brings with him to go. ‘You can have my floor if you don’t mind sharing a room.’
He gives me a sideways glance. ‘You don’t think that would be improper? You are engaged to another man.’
‘I think Torin would be pleased to know I have a personal guard.’
Bronn snorts. ‘You don’t need protecting.’ But he picks up a blanket and throws it on the floor.
I smile to myself as I climb into my hammock, relieved he’s chosen to stay. I wasn’t sure he would.
Bronn snuffs out the lantern before he settles down. The silence that follows is filled with unspoken longing, this stolen time together so precious.
When he speaks his voice is soft. ‘Will you let me teach you?’
I’m confused. ‘Teach me what?’
